My Zombie Survival Plan
by Crimson Xenomorph
Summary: This is what I would do if Left 4 Dead came to life and I was immune. Follow John as well as others in their struggle to survive the zombie apocalypse. Contains strong violence and language (like all my stories...)


**This is my second story after 'The Crimson Xenomorphs' so I am slightly more experienced and hopefully this beginning will be better than my previous story's start. Please enjoy my first Left 4 Dead story.**

**My Zombie Survival Plan**

**Chapter 1: The Green Flu**

I walked through the door and flung my bag down onto a chair. I had just got home after another tedious day of school. English, followed by double science, maths then catering. Probably the worst day after Monday. At this school, those are the worst boring subjects, enough to make you bang your head against the table in utter boredom. Caterings pretty good but it's still not the best. Almost feels like that small pot of bronze at the end of a shitty rainbow. Oh well, no pain no gain.

I sat down on the sofa and turned the TV on to see if there was anything on worth watching. It was already set on the news so I decided to watch a bit. They were on about this green flu again, some sort of epidemic disease and how it had already started to claim countless lives. I switched to the TV guide mostly because I didn't really care much for the news but honestly, it was because stuff like this always disturbed me in a way. I was very paranoid at times and I just always kept getting bad feeling whenever this sort of thing happened. When I was just a little kid I used to be scared shitless of germs and bacteria haha, but I was just a little kid. There were a lot of things I didn't understand.

I flicked through the channels and, as usual, there was nothing but crap on. I decided to head upstairs and put on some music. Mum was working late tonight and dad was off on a business trip though he was coming home tonight. One of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere was that there were no neighbours and when my parents weren't home until late at night, I had the house to myself which meant I could play music, movies and games very loudly and there was no one to tell me to 'turn it down'. It felt great to just lie down, stick on some tunes, forget the whole day and just lose yourself in the music and your own imagination. Music can be a great inspiration for things. I picked up my brother's Roman style stiletto knife which he got as a birthday present years ago and I started to sharpen it some more. It had quite a sharp blade by now. He had left it here since he moved down to Wales years ago.

Eventually the music got boring and I was bored of trying to think up different ideas. I decided to start up the computer a play one of my favourite genres, zombie games. I loved them all! Survival where you have to survive wave after wave of hordes, campaign where you had to travel and try not to end up getting your face eaten off and physiological horrors where you had no weapons and you had to use your stealth and cunning to evade the creatures. All were great.

Before I knew it, the room had darkened to a pitch black and the only thing lighting the room was the computer monitor. I yawned and glanced at my watch. It was a lot later than I thought. It said 10:00PM. It seems to be quite easy to lose yourself in these things sometimes. I sighed and thought I ought to get some shut eye. I laid in bed and my heavy eyelids slowly started to droop and before I knew it, I was fast asleep. For some reason, I suffered terrible nightmares that night.

I was armed but nothing but my bare hands. I noticed the undead approaching from pretty much everywhere. I did what I had to do. The zombies shambled slowly towards me so they were fairly easy to trick and outrun. I could punch and kick one down without much hassle from the rest. The problem was, it seemed like whenever I killed one, two more would appear. I wouldn't allow myself to be cornered and still picked them off one by one. I have had plenty of training and I knew what I was doing. They seemed to be getting faster and faster, increasing to a trot and then a run as I killed more and more. There was a very large group amassing and I knew I couldn't hold off this many. There was only one chance of survival and that was to run. I turned my back and sprinted away from the creatures. I turned into a building a found more of them climbing through windows, trying to cut me off. I turned from them to run back out but in front of me was the largest freakin' zombie I have ever seen. This zombie looked as if it was made entirely of muscle. It arms were as thick as tree trunks but it had rather small stumpy legs. It used these massive arms as support much like a gorilla. I stood there, shocked to the spot, unbelieving what I saw before me. It lifted me high from the ground with one hand and proceeded to rip me limb from bloody limb. I screamed in agony as he ripped my arms off followed by my legs. He held my torso in his ginormous hand as my blood poured from it and splattered loudly on the floor. He pinched my head and slowly twisted and pulled creating excruciating pain in my neck and head until it finally popped right off. I was dead.

I was awakened by what I thought was another scream, a more feminine scream. I jerked upright and looked around. I could have sworn I heard something. I soon disregarded it as my imagination playing tricks on me again. I rested my head on the pillow in an attempt to go back to sleep until I heard another loud blood curdling yell coming from my parents room. I bolted up and shouted "Mum?!" I opened my door and there in the hallway was my father crouching beside my mother. I saw her terrified face covered in blood and tears as my father continually beat and bashed the corpse of my mother. "Dad?" I said in disbelief. He stopped beating my dead mother and slowly turned his head towards me slightly tilted. I felt my stomach turn as I gazed upon his bloodied face, pale skin and pupil-less eyes. I took a few slow steps back until he quickly got up and tried to charge at me. I bolted back into my room and slammed the door close as fast as I could. I could hear my father frantically bashing the door in an attempt to get in. He grunted loudly as he repeatedly bashed the door relentlessly. This seriously unnerved me. What the hell happened? What do I do now?

**Hope that first chapter was good and I hope that this story will be well received in general. Thank you and I hope you enjoyed the story so far. Don't forget to review, follow, and have a nice day my friends ; )**


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